


Colour Separation

by Smellyfeet04



Series: Because I Had To (But They're Kinda Good) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A random person walking through a train station, Detailed Imagery, Train Station, and it doesn't really have a purpose, and they meet some depresso espresso people, but i was forced to write something, first person POV, so deal with how trash it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smellyfeet04/pseuds/Smellyfeet04
Summary: A person's walk through a train station and their observations.Inspiration from George Orwell's masterpiece '1984'
Series: Because I Had To (But They're Kinda Good) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182989
Kudos: 1





	Colour Separation

**Author's Note:**

> This was a work that i wrote in English in like 25mins so no judgement if it's trash.

The loud echo of people rushing through the tunnel rings through my ears, and the loud murmur of voices seems never ending. I push through the colourful crowd of clothes which seem to contrast the dull, drained and depressed looks on their faces. I find my eyes wandering from face to face, each one unique with features but the same, devoid of emotion.

As my eyes continue to drift around the room, they fall and rest on a short man sitting in the corner of the tunnel. His squinted eyes drag across the room, devoid of hope but still searching. The colours continue past and march on towards their destination. I, however, find myself drawing closer, curiosity getting the better of me. My feet stop moving as I reach the corner and sink into a crouch infront of the man. I send him a smile while reaching into my bag and pull out a brown lump wrapped in plastic. I hand it to him and turn to leave, but a hand grabs at my coat before I can pull away. The man didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to as a smile graced his old, wrinkled features and his eyes, no longer dull and searching, locked with mine, now filled with hope and gratitude and a small “thank you” left his lips. I returned his thanks with a simple nod before turning to continue on my journey.

As I continue walking, I notice people’s eyes cast down to the glowing light of the screen held tightly in their grasp. Others, dressed in tightly fitted suits, mumble towards their device with an agitated look as they try to explain the cause of their delayed commute.

Making my way through the crowd, my feet stomping up the platform, a young woman speeds past. In her arms lay a wailing child, its frail arms outstretched towards it’s carrier. The woman held a frantic look as her eyes scanned the platform in a desperate search. As if her prayers had been answered, she let out a relieved cry before dashing towards the platform officer, a small toddler waddling along with him.

Her shoulders relaxed in relief as she pulled the wobbling child towards her, holding it close to her chest. A loud string of “thank you”s left her mouth as she looked up with grateful eyes, the officer simply smiled at her, tipping his hat, and with a simple “no worries”, was on his way.

My attention was drawn to my left as a horn sounded in the distance. The locomotive pulled into the station and the breaks screamed to a stop, drones of people in black, white and grey filled into conventional lines as the doors opened with a small bang, and just as ants would, filled into the carriage one by one. I stood and watched as a short woman sauntered up to the end of the line. She carried a large, brown handbag over her shoulder, the bag strap bright in comparison to her white button up shirt, so similar to the ones worn by those infront of her. Her hair, neatly pulled into a bun, had small hairs pulled from it framing her face, caught between her tan skin and the cool metal of her phone. She, along with many others in the lines, were lost. Not in the literal sense of the word. But lost none the less, and as the clear doors slowly slid shut with a loud clank, the dull and the colourful became separate once more.


End file.
